Airport Drama
After saying goodbyes that took longer than I really should have let them I slung my bags into the boot of my Ma’s car and set off for the airport. About 15 minutes into the trip it became clear that the traffic, even for evening rush hour, was abnormally heavy. After 30 minutes it was painfully obvious that I hadn’t given myself anywhere near enough time and I was in real danger of missing my flight to Abu Dhabi, which was supposed to be taking me onto Bangkok for an internal connection flight to the southern Thai island of Phuket. I was supposed to check in three hours before my 9.10 pm flight but when the clock struck six we were locked in traffic just south of the city centre.
Sickeningly, buses and taxis where whizzing past in the near-empty bus lane and I came to the conclusion that this was my only hope of salvation. I whipped my bags out of the car, said my last goodbye on a grid-locked Pearse Street and flagged down a taxi.
"What time is your flight?" asked the driver, as we covered more road in one minute than I had in my previous 20.
"Just under three hours, but I’m supposed to be checking in now."
The bloke looked at me, eyebrows slug skyward, as if I was wasting my time and money even going to the airport.
"I can’t imagine them turning me away if I make it there two hours before the plane is due to take off!" I wailed, in an effort to convince myself as much as my now giggling driver.
But despite his reservations about my chances of getting to the airport on time, he was determined to absolve himself of any blame – the man new his way around and the traffic seemed to lighten with every turn he took. We got there quickly but the damage looked to have been done. By the time I was throwing my bags onto a trolley outside the departure gates with the driver’s unashamedly skeptical, "I hope you make it!" ringing in my ears I was a full hour late for the final check in time.
OAPs, infants and the disabled were scattered like a flock of pigeons as I burst across the departure hall, noting as I went that Area 1 was earmarked as the check in location for my Ethiad Airways flight. I’d had to sit in impotent rage as the traffic held me back for the previous two hours, but now that I was on foot the remainder of my journey time was in my own hands. But as my stressed out, furious head precipitated a near Biblical parting of the masses I noticed a worryingly large queue was strung out from the check in desks at Area 1. My first thought was that my Abu Dhabi flight had bee checked in and the airline had moved on to taking the bags of customers set for somewhere else. However, as I got to the end of the line of baggage-heavy passengers the male half of young couple tapped the shoulder of one of dozens of white-robbed Arabs already waiting to check in. "Sorry, is this the check in for the 9.10 Ethiad to Abu Dhabi?" he asked.
The Muslim gentleman looked at him in a way that said, "Well done Sherlock," before nodding the affirmative. The flight had been delayed and so had the check in. I’d made it.
20-odd hours of crap movies and worse food later I was wheeling my suitcase through monsoon rain and into my new apartment. I’ve got a week’s holiday, which will involve travelling around Phuket and some of its nearby islands, before I start working for a Thai-based English language property magazine. I’ve spent the last year writing about the lives of immigrants living in Ireland for Metro Éireann, and now I get to experience it for myself.
Thailand is a place very much in transition. Last year it's Prime Minister Thakasin Sinawatra was ran out of the country by the military amid accusations of corruption. Thailand's beloved Monarch backed the bloodless coup which meant the people broadly welcomed it too. However, although military coups rarely end well, a new constitution has been drafted and backed by referendum. An election is planed for next month and the military has promised to hand power over to whatever party wins.
The country's economic shift has been matched by an economic one which has been fueled by a burgeoning tourism industry. I visited an island called Koh Samui about three or four years ago. At the time accommodation consisted mainly of thatch-roofed bamboo huts and the only clothes you could buy were emblazoned with either a hash leaf, Bob Marley or Ché Guevara. I went back just over a year ago and I didn’t recognise the place. Glass and chrome had replaced the bamboo and thatch, and D&G and Calvin Klein boutiques had replaced the t-shirt stalls. Thailand is a country going from third to first world and it's a hugely interesting time to be here.
